


Observance

by Goodchampagneandprivateplanes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental meeting, Airports, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Café, Dinner, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Famous Louis, Flirting, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Just the Tip, Luggage, M/M, Non-Famous Harry, Observant Louis, We kind of share that really, but harry doesnt know, but really almost a real relationship, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6996145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodchampagneandprivateplanes/pseuds/Goodchampagneandprivateplanes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know I didn't do this for free, right?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Observance

Louis sometimes hated being so damn observant. 

He was exhausted, desperately needing more coffee, and jet lagged beyond belief. He was at a café at some airport in New York. He didn’t quite care what airport he was at. He was only supposed to be here for an hour and twenty-seven minutes before his connecting flight left. That was _just_ enough time to get coffee and a quick bite to eat. However, the connecting flight got delayed two hours due to inclement weather. So, just to top off the jet lag, the weather outside basically matched how he felt inside. At least, now, he could drink a bit more coffee to, maybe, boost himself up a bit more. 

He would have tried to rest a bit, but his brain would not shut off. He was looking forward to going to Miami for a nice, well-deserved vacation. He was originally hoping for a direct flight from Heathrow to Miami, but the prices were ridiculously overpriced for non-stop. So, he decided that one stop wouldn’t kill him. And, that is how he ended up, jet lagged, waiting for a delayed flight, in some New York airport, sipping on coffee that was much too weak for his liking. 

He wished that his brain would just shut off sometimes and let him relax. Relaxation was not a word in Louis’ vocabulary. Apparently, the phrase “sleep on the plane” was also not a phrase in his vocabulary. Neither was “just pay the extra 200 euros, it’ll be worth it”. But, here he is, stuck in New York. 

He glanced down at his phone as he finished off his coffee. No new messages. Alright. Given, it was 9pm in his hometown, but he figured that at least _one_ of his sisters had to be up. Or his mother. Or, maybe he just had shitty cell service in New York. Was that possible? 

He glanced around and looked for the café waitress. In his way, he noticed everybody in the café except for the waitress. For example, the woman at the counter who was flirting way too obviously with the man next to her, who was probably married. He even had a ring on his finger. And that woman was _definitely_ not his wife, considering that she was _way_ too into him, and kept playing with her hair. Damn. Louis felt a bit bad for the guy, who was probably just trying to buy a muffin or something quick before his flight. However, when he left with four muffins and three juices, he decided that it was probably for him, his wife, and two kids. The woman looked confused and slightly abandoned. Well, that’s what you get for flirting with a married man. Louis knew the feeling. 

He flagged down the server and asked for a another cup of coffee — this time, with two shots of espresso. He also ordered a chocolate croissant and a cheese danish, but he would never admit that to anybody, considering he was trying to be “healthy” for his Miami getaway. 

The waitress returned back with what he wanted and he anxiously checked his phone again. Still no messages. 

What the fuck. 

He had even bought the world messaging plan for his entire family before he left. He messaged his four oldest sisters and his mother when he landed, and still had no reply back. Not even a smiley face. 

Five minutes passed by as Louis picked at his danish and sipped at his coffee. Nothing too excited happened in those five minutes. There was a man who was looking for a chocolate chip muffin for his pregnant sister, and was denied of that muffin, yet again. There were a few teenage girls who had walked in and got coffee, but, in reality, Louis knew they were only getting the coffee to impress each other and that they really didn’t want coffee in the first place. 

He sent out an email to his family and hoped that that went through. Maybe they were doing other important things, like watching television, or something. Nobody worried about Louis traveling alone anymore. This wasn’t his first, or second, or even twentieth solo trip. That was the wonderful thing about having money. He was able to go where he wanted whenever he wanted with whoever he wanted. 

Louis was a singer in a band that was a bit famous in England. Not many people knew of the band out of the UK, so Louis figured Miami was perfect. If he got noticed, it wouldn’t be by many people. He knew the language, so that didn’t bother him. And, apparently, Miami has great beaches and great nightlife. Just what he needed to do to get away from life. 

At the table next to him sat a man around his age who had ordered tea with milk and a buttered croissant. The man now was desperately scraping around his carry-on for a few extra dollars for his bill, all while talking on the phone. Louis would have offered his table-neighbor the money he needed, but as he was about to interrupt his conversation, the guy pulled out a five dollar bill and slapped it on the table. 

“Yes, mother. I’m aware. I know. It’s not my fault the plane is delayed. I know. Listen, I couldn’t have come yesterday - you know that! I was at work all day and maxed out my days off already for this. No, I won’t miss the wedding. Yes, I’ll be there tomorrow morning. I promise. Tell her I say hello. I hope Miami has better weather than here now,” the man said, rushed, into the phone. Louis assumed that he was on the phone with his mother and kept cutting her off. A bit rude, but hey, to each their own. 

Louis knew that he should not have been spying on another guy’s conversation. It’s not like he was staring at him or anything, though. So, really, it was just eavesdropping, right? And eavesdropping isn’t as bad as spying. Louis tried to reason with himself, but before he could even come to a decision on which is the lesser of two evils, the man was already gone. 

And that was one of the few amount of times in Louis’ life that he wished he was more observant and at least caught the guy’s name before he left. Not like he needed to know. He was just purely curious as to what his name was. 

Louis checked his texts again. Nothing. He usually didn’t mind not getting messages, but this delay was going to do his head in if he didn’t talk to _somebody_. He checked his emails again, and still, nothing. 

What the fuck. 

He finished off his pastries and his second coffee, which was much stronger than the first, but still wasn’t strong enough. He ordered the largest possible coffee with three shots of espresso, and hoped that all the caffeine would kick in before his flight, so he would be able to actually be awake three hours later once he lands in Miami at 7pm. He figured that if he was awake until 9pm, he would at least be able to sleep through the night in the new time zone. That was the plan, at least. 

He gathered his coffee cup to-go and left the waitress enough to cover the bill with a generous tip. He figured that, especially in an airport, a lot of people didn’t tip well — if they even tipped at all. He understood. He used to serve at a restaurant when he was younger. He quit that job the minute he started getting decent gigs in the UK. Once he booked his first major gig that brought in a substantial amount of money, he phoned up the restaurant, and _literally_ quit his job that minute. The manager had asked him just to finish out his shifts, but he never showed his face at that place again. Never. 

Louis was still exhausted and wanting to sleep. The trek across the airport to go to a different terminal for his flight wore him out even more. His carry-on bag was growing increasingly heavy on his shoulder, and he kept switching what shoulder it rested on, but regardless of where he put it or how it was positioned, nothing was comfortable. He sat on the bus to take him to the next terminal and _just_ then he realized what the man in the café table next to him had said. He realized that he was probably on the same flight as him. Louis wasn’t sure why he got a bit excited all the sudden, but he did. He started dreaming about how him and that guy would be sitting next to each other on the plane for the next three hours and how he would get to know him. Well, if he was a talker, at least. 

Louis didn’t mind flying by himself. Hell, he kind of enjoyed flying. It was a bit of a relaxant, since he was in no control and was just able to sit back and enjoy someone else’s work. It was nice, actually. He didn’t think that the guy was going to be a talker, based off of his conversation with his mother, but he really hoped that he was just in a snippy mood and that he would be a nice seat partner. If he even was next to him. He wasn’t even _positive_ he was on the same flight. But, he did mention Miami, right? 

He was too caught up in his thoughts to enjoy the ride on the bus. All he knew was that he was at the next terminal and that the bus doors were opening, so he made his way out, looking out for his gate number. Instead of looking at the gate numbers, he watched a denim jacket with a sheer floral shirt peeking out that looked strangely familiar. Yep. That was the guy from the café. Louis resisted from running up to the man and asking him his name and what he was doing in Miami. God, he was just so interesting, though. A wedding? He was busy yesterday? What was he doing? Is he in trouble? Who is getting married? Louis guessed that it was his sister, just from how the tone of his voice had changed from when the bickering to the “tell her I say hello.” 

However, he refrained. He uncomfortably switched his bag on his shoulder, for what felt like the five hundredth time in the past hour. The flight was set to leave in an hour or so, at this point in time. There was nothing better to do here, so Louis decided to sit down in the gate lounge, once he followed the man there. 

Wow, he didn’t mean to follow him like a creep, but that’s what it felt like to him. And the guy didn’t even notice. Maybe that was normal to not notice someone following you in an airport, but who knew? Louis definitely didn’t. He’s still too observant for his own good. 

The man ended up sitting across from him. Louis pulled out his phone to act as if he wasn’t observing the man, aimlessly flicking at the screen and opening up random applications to seem busy and important. God, this was creepy. But, he was purely interested. It wasn’t like he was going to kill the poor guy, he just wanted to know about everything in his life. …Maybe it was more acceptable to be a creeper to kill someone than to be a creeper to know about their life. Damn. 

He rolled up his Adidas’ sweatshirt sleeves, which revealed several tattoos, and he watched as the guy from the café looked at him, almost judgtngly, but not quite. He had tattoos of his own covering his arms, so he couldn’t be judging Louis based on that. However, his look was quick and he went right back to reading on his Kindle. 

And, of course, in that moment, Louis realized that he _really_ needed to pee and didn’t want to bring his bag with him back down the hallway since it was giving him a literal pain in the back. He stood up, cracked his back, and sat down next to the café not-so-stranger. 

“Hey, man,” Louis said. The guy looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. 

“May I help you?” 

“Yeah, actually. Can you watch my bag for a bit?” Louis asked, fairly nice. The man stuttered and then hesitated for a second. 

“Why?” 

“Just.. can you?” He suddenly remembered back to the café, where he was scraping up money to pay for his tea. “Listen, I’ll give you some money if you can just babysit it. Five hundred. Cash. What do you say…” Louis asked, hoping for the man to fill in his name. 

“Harry.” 

“What do you say, Harry? Just watch my bag until Miami, actually. I’m on that flight too!” Louis said. God, he _really_ needed to pee now, and Harry’s short answers and hesitancy to agree were not helping. “Listen, say yes or I’ll ask someone else. And, don’t go through my bag, please.” 

“Fine, fine,” Harry muttered. Louis ran down the hallway to the bathroom. It wasn’t like Harry even wanted to do it. But, he really did need the money, so he figured he would settle for it. Louis’ last comment worried Harry a bit, but he didn’t think too much of it. That is, until Louis didn’t show up for another twenty minutes and the flight was starting to board. Harry looked down at the bag’s luggage tag in hopes to find some name on it. Louis. 

Louis came running back down the hall to the gate and thanked Harry. Harry tried to give the bag back, but Louis declined return, stating that for the money, Harry needed to babysit it until Miami. 

“What’s in this bag?” Harry asked, hushed, in a harsh whisper. 

“My stuff?” 

“Why do I have to watch it?” Harry asked. Louis just shrugged. He kind of liked seeing Harry get worked up over a bag. Honestly, there was nothing bad in the bag — just clothes and some medicine and a toothbrush. “Is it illegal?” 

“I made it past security. Don’t worry,” Louis said, a smirk growing on his face as he winked at Harry. Harry turned bright red and Louis worried that he had fucked up everything. But, Harry didn’t throw the bag back to him, so he took it as a mini flirtatious acceptance. 

After a bit of discussion, Louis found out that Harry and him were, unfortunately, not seat buddies. Harry was much further up in the cabin than Louis was. Louis preferred the back. It was a lot smoother of a ride to him and the engine hum blocked out a lot of ambient noise of talking and babies screaming. 

As the sections were called to board, Harry grew more and more hesitant to carry on Louis’ bag. But, once he made it onto the plane, he loosened up a bit. Even if there was something horrendously illegal, he wasn’t going to be caught now, unless Louis did something stupid. But, even then, his name was on the tag. And he did make it past security, right? 

“I just hope nothing happens to it while we’re flying,” Louis whispered to Harry as they stood in line, Harry behind Louis. He just loved teasing him and see his anxiety grow. It was fun, to Louis, to watch him run his fingers through his short hair and pull at his ears. 

In reality, Louis just didn’t want to deal with his bag anymore. It was much too heavy for him to carry, and he couldn’t imagine trying to lift it into the overhead compartment with the energy that he had remaining. Harry was much taller than he was, and seemed to be fit enough to lift Louis’ bag into the overhead compartment. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, Harry would help him get it down from the compartment when they landed in Florida. 

Louis made his way to his seat, bag-free, with just his phone in his hand. He sat back and loved how when Harry lifted his bag into the compartment, his shirt rode up just enough to see his abdomen. God, he was fit, for sure. However, Harry quickly fixed his shirt and tucked it in before he lifted his own bag into the compartment and took his seat toward the front of the cabin. 

Harry took glanced over and their eyes met for a quick second before Harry broke the contact and turned red. He was one that was easy to make blush. Louis chuckled and relaxed back in his seat. He was smart and bought the seat next to him as well, because he could, so that way there was a bit of extra room for him and he didn’t have to worry about drooling on some guy next to him, or something weird like that. 

And so, the plane took off and Louis relaxed back in his seat, put in his earbuds, and shut his eyes. Well, he tried to shut his eyes. Within a few minutes, his eyes were back open, watching Harry through the seats. Once he decided that Harry was resting, he decided to close his eyes and try to get _some_ bit of rest before Miami. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep for before he was bumped into on his side. 

He grumbled and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, and when he glanced over, just to see his surroundings, all he saw in the aisle was a pair of legs clad in dark skinny jeans with a sheer floral shirt that came down just past his hips. Harry. 

“May I help you?” Louis asked, holding back a yawn until he was done with his question. 

Harry leaned over, careful not to bother the person sat across the aisle from Louis. Harry took that as an invitation and moved into Louis’ aisle and sat down in the empty middle seat but angled his body, so he was facing him. 

“Why is your bag moving?!” Harry asked, hushed and full of anxiety. Louis shrugged and looked at him, but Harry stayed silent in an attempt to get Louis to say more. That didn’t work. “Tell me! What did I get myself into?” Again, Louis shrugged. He just met this man, but it was _so_ entertaining to watch him get worried about a completely innocent bag. “Louis!” Louis simply looked at him, and corrected how he pronounced his name. He never formally introduced himself, so he wasn’t quite sure how Harry had figured out his name, but he did have to give him props for figuring it out. “I guess Lou-eh explains the accent, then.” 

“Excuse you,” Louis said, faking offense. “I am _not_ French. I am British. Shame on you for not knowing your accents well enough, Mr. Stereotypical New Yorker.” Harry squinted his eyes, his own attempt to read Louis, which did not turn out too well. “And your eyes like that don’t scare me.” Louis laughed; Harry didn’t. Harry just got up and made his way out of the aisle.” 

“Actually, for your information, I’m from California. I moved to New York last year. So, no, you’re wrong.” The statement was quickly followed by a snap of Harry’s gum and a dramatic heel turn before he left for his designated seat. 

Yep, he’s gay. Completely gay. Louis could just tell. 

Louis didn’t like to label his own sexuality. He was an experimenter. He didn’t care if he was with a guy, or a girl, or whatever the other person identified as. All he needed to know was a name to moan and then he took to rest as it came - no put intended. He literally did not care, which made for some interesting nights, when he could have sworn that there was going to be a dick, but instead, there wasn’t. But, whatever works for him. He can work it either way, and he knows damn well that he can please _literally_ anybody. Versatile, he liked to call himself. 

The espresso was finally kicking in and Louis could no longer sit still. So, naturally, he decided to take a walk down to the bathroom. Sure, there was one a few rows behind him, but he figured that he wanted to tease Harry a bit, so he decided to go to the restrooms toward the front of the plane. So, he made his way down the aisle, but then decided to stop at his bag. Harry watched him, eyes wide as Louis got on his tip-toes, opened up the overhead lid just enough, reached his hand into his bag and nodded. He then closed the lid, looked over at Harry, grinned cheekily, and gave him a thumbs up. 

Harry still could not figure out what the fuck was in that bag, and it was bothering him to no end. Was it a person? The bag wasn’t that heavy. Maybe a dog? But there would have had to been some kind of noise at this point in time. Maybe it was a baby. Or drugs. Or maybe a gun. 

Louis walked back from the bathroom and threw a flirtatious wink at Harry as he walked by. And, of course, the man turned bright red and started to play with his hair again. Louis chuckled again to himself as he returned to his own seat. He pulled his sweatshirt off and laid it in the seat next to him before he put his earbuds back in his ears and leaned into the seat. 

An hour doesn’t seem like a long time until you’re stuck on a plane, running only a few hours of sleep and five shots of espresso. You’re yearning for sleep from your body, but your mind is going a thousand miles a minute — well, a thousand miles more than what it normally goes, which for Louis was already faster than the average human. He found a decent movie to watch on the screen in front of him and tried to shut his eyes for the remainder of the flight, this time for real. 

He wasn’t interrupted for the rest of the flight, which he was actually a bit disappointed about. He was expecting Harry to come back and sit in the seat next to him again and ask him questions. God, what was he thinking? Harry may even already have a boyfriend. He could be married, for all Louis knew. He was just observant and an overthinker; he wasn’t a psychic, although he did wish he was at times. He thought life must be a lot easier if he was. 

They landed safely in Miami and Harry and Louis both decided to hang around until everyone else was off the plane. Louis stayed seated and yawned before he fixed his hair. He stood up and tied his sweatshirt around his waist, and when he looked up, Harry was watching him. This tension was weird. 

"You can have your bag now," Harry said to Louis. Louis shook his head. "But we're in Miami." Louis shook his head again. Harry sighed and reluctantly took Louis' bag down, even more careful than before. 

Louis gasped, just to shock Harry, which it did. Harry jumped back and almost dropped the bag. Meanwhile, Louis cracked up to the point of literal tears. Harry could've kicked him in the shin at that point, but like a decent human being, he withheld. 

They headed out of the airplane and once they were in the Miami airport, Harry put his and Louis' bags down on a chair and turned to Louis. 

"You know I didn't do this for free, right?" Harry looked down at Louis and crossed his arms. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm aware. Chill." Louis opened up his bag, grabbed his wallet, and handed six hundred dollar bills to Harry. Harry counted out the six and cocked his head. 

"You gave me too much." 

"Nah. The extra hundred was just for messing with you." 

This time, Harry didn't turn red, but he did start laughing nervously. Louis opened up his bag, just to reveal a bunch of clothes and non-threatening normal people things. Nothing extravagant. 

"See? I'm not an awful person!" Louis teased, lightly hitting Harry on the arm. "Nothing illegal. I told you that. I quite honestly just didn't feel like carrying it anymore." Harry sighed in relief and pushed his hair out of his face. 

"I could've sworn you were going to pull out drugs or a gun or something awful." Louis laughed in response. 

"Not an awful person. Wow, and to think I was going to treat you to dinner, Mr. Not-New-Yorker." 

"Never said you were awful." 

"Implied it. But I'll forgive you, I guess. So. Dinner? Plane food sucks and I didn't eat anything since the café," Louis said, his stomach growling oddly on cue. Harry nodded in agreement. He hadn't eaten either since even before that. 

Neither were quite sure why they were still talking. Harry had gotten paid, Louis had his bag toted around the New York airport, Louis managed to freak out a guy, and then get a date? This wasn’t quite how he planned out Miami to be. He figured it would be more of a “sleep on a beach during the day, club and party all night,” deal. But, now, he basically just asked out some stranger for a dinner date. Not quite what he had planned, but it wasn’t necessarily what he didn't want. 

Harry decided to act like the gentleman he was and continued to lug around Louis’ not-so-heavy bag for him. They managed to pick up their luggage at the baggage claim, and Harry used his New York ways to find a taxi. Louis gave the address to a car rental place a few miles away that was _much_ cheaper than those offered at the airport. Sure, it was a hassle to get the luggage in and out of the car, but Harry’s muscles — oh, those muscles — came quite in handy, and Louis definitely could not complain, nor did he really want to. He could watch Harry lift luggage all day with those arms of his. God. 

After they picked out Louis’ car, Harry relaxed in the passenger seat as Louis took the position of driver. He navigated the Floridian streets like a pro. Harry never asked if he had been there before, but Louis figured that he was just enjoying Florida for how it is. It didn’t hit Louis until about 15 minutes into the drive to realize that he, Louis Tomlinson, a famous British singer, was in a rental car, in Miami, with a stranger that he met in New York at a café who barely could pay for his own meal. And, clearly, Harry had no idea who he was. The music was playing quietly in the background on some Top 100 worldwide station. Louis was humming along before his own song came on. He did find it funny how by halfway through the first chorus, Harry switched stations again. Yep. He clearly had no idea who he was sitting next to, and that was wonderful. 

Louis drove them to a casual burger joint and he totally forgot to even ask Harry what he wanted for dinner. He just assumed that he would be fine with burgers, or whatever else they had. Surely, they had to have something for everyone, of course. Louis suddenly realized that he didn’t even know what Harry liked to eat, or what he could eat. 

Louis snapped his head to look at Harry. 

“Oh, God, don’t tell me you're vegetarian,” Louis said, completely seriously. It was now Harry’s turn to have fun teasing Louis. 

“I am. I can’t eat anywhere where any kind of animal meat is in the back,” Harry said, doing a good job at holding a straight face. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Where do you want to eat?” Louis reached for the keys in his pocket before Harry’s hand met his arm to stop him. 

“I’ll be fine,” Harry said, winking. “You couldn’t have actually thought that I was vegetarian. Come on.” Louis knew he deserved that tease, plus the subsequent, friendly, whack to his arm. 

Dinner consisted mostly of Harry talking, this time. He spoke a lot about his family and friends and life back home. Louis learned a lot about him. He was 22, a fashion designer who majored in business in college. He graduated early since he took on full course loads during summer. His family was spread across the country. His mother and sister live in Florida; his father lives in Arizona; his cousins throughout Europe, and his aunt lives in California. He lived with his aunt through college since it saved him thousands on room and board, and she happened to have an extra room. She didn’t charge him rent and he left her alone, so it was a win-win for everyone. He has a dog back home, named Spot, and one of his best friends, Niall, is watching him for the week that he is down here, since pet sitting was too expensive. Sure, he didn’t fully trust Niall to even watch his plants, but he figured that his dog would be sufficient enough and that his roommate, Liam, would probably end up taking care of Spot instead of Niall. 

Louis didn’t say much during dinner until dessert rolled around. They both ordered milkshakes and while waiting for the waitress to deliver them, Harry asked Louis what he does for a living. Louis dodged the true question by saying that he never went to college but worked full time. He mentioned to Harry that he had to travel a lot for work and it paid well, which is no lie. Harry accepted the answer without even thinking twice about what he did. Sure, normal people walk around offering $500 to anybody willing to watch a bag for a few hours. Normal. Normal wasn’t in Louis’ vocabulary. 

After one spilled milkshake (hey, it wasn’t Harry’s fault that Louis made him laugh so hard that the shake literally came out of his nose and he flung his hands up to stop it, but instead managed to knock over the entire rest of the shake), the waitress dropped off the check. Like typical lovers, they fought over who was going to pay. Harry insisted since Louis paid him extra money at the airport. Louis insisted since Harry needed the money more than he did. 

“You drove, I can pay,” Harry said, milkshake-covered arms crossed over his chest. 

“No. I bothered you all day. My treat. Or we can split the bill.” 

“Fine,” Harry said and blew a raspberry at Louis. Louis, maturely, responded back with a louder one. 

“Tell me what I owe you,” Louis said as he grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket. 

“Just the tip.” Harry smirked, and flushed as Louis made quick eye contact with him. Oh, God. Did he just say something flirty? 

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Louis snorted. He grabbed the check out of Harry’s hand, threw his card down on the table and waved the waitress down before Harry had any chance to protest. 

“Now, I owe you the tip,” Harry said. God. He was definitely flirting. 

The subject and flirtatious comments were quickly dropped once the waitress dropped the receipts off. 

“Listen, Louis. Serious question - slash - favor. Both, I guess,” Harry said, obviously nervous. 

“Hm?” 

“My mother is getting re-married tomorrow. I’m going, but it’s early in the morning. Like, 9 am early.” 

“Yes — and?” 

“Iwaswonderingifyouwantedtostaythenight,” Harry mumbled, quickly, under his breath. 

“Lad, if you want an answer, you have to pause between words.” 

“I was wondering if you wanted to stay the night,” Harry said, a bit slower than before. 

“My place or yours?” 

“Mine. I have to get ready at my place. I mean, if you don’t mind. I won’t kick you out at 9 if you don't want to leave, I guess,” Harry started. “Or, you could be my plus one.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Just pretend you're my boyfriend so I don't have to have any awkward questions at the wedding asking where I am in my life, how my love life is — or lack thereof, or how work is going. I’d just get questions about who you are and how good of a person you are.” 

No response. 

“Fuck, I fucked up, didn’t I?!” Harry snapped. He got out of his chair and pushed it in. “I’m sorry. I’m too straightforward. I shouldn't have said anything. I’m sorry. This is my fault.” 

“No. I don’t mind at all. I’ll go,” Louis said, trying not to sound to excited. _God, he wanted to kiss him_. 

“No pressure?” 

“No pressure.” 

Harry bit his lip and looked down. _Fuck_. Harry looked up just in time to see lips falling onto his. Louis’ hand wrapped around Harry’s waist in a quick motion. The contact only lasted a few seconds before Louis pulled away and held onto Harry’s arm. He led him out to the car and swatted at Harry’s behind as he got into the car. 

“I guess I owe you the tip,” Harry said. 

“Or do I owe you?” 

“We’ll see,” Louis said. His body was exhausted, again, but his mind stayed at 100mph. There was no slowing him down at this point. 

So, going to a stranger’s wedding as a fake-boyfriend - slash - plus one wasn’t exactly on Louis’ list of things to do on vacation. But, it wasn't exactly on Louis’ list of things not to do on vacation. And, quite honestly, he never liked going off of plan as much as he did in this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to write 100 fics in 100 days. Feel free to comment/message requests!


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